


Man is a Monster Caught in His Skin

by peoriapeoria



Series: Fitter of the Species [15]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Fantastic Four (Movies 2005-2007), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Incredible Hulk (Comics), The Incredible Hulk - All Media Types
Genre: Adorable Hulk, Amazon Steve Rogers, Art, Ben Grimm/Alicia Masters - Freeform, Bisexuality, Bruce Banner Has Issues, Character Development, Cunnilingus, Dating, Developing Relationship, Doombots, Doubled-Up Actor, Emotional Intelligence, Ensemble Cast, Established Relationship, F/M, Falling In Love, Fame, Food, Food Trucks, Gender Issues, Gender or Sex Swap, Guest Stars, Hulk Feels, Humor, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Marvel Cameos, Minor Jane Foster/Thor, Minor Pepper Potts/Tony Stark, POV Bruce Banner, Publicity, Reed Richards/Susan Storm - Freeform, Relationship Negotiation, Reproductive health, Safer Sex, Steve Rogers and the 21st Century, Super Soldier Serum, Talk Shows, Tony Being Tony, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, fashion - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-20
Updated: 2015-09-20
Packaged: 2018-04-22 13:43:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 14,041
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4837400
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/peoriapeoria/pseuds/peoriapeoria
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>It's not really as bad as-- Jan's approach isn't what he's used to. Bruce has always used thrift stores. On the run, in college, in the system, with his mom... Good enough was often better than he could manage. After the incident, it just didn't matter. What the Other Guy didn't destroy, Bruce lost one run or another.</em>
</p><p>Janet Van Dyne and Johnny Storm both guest appear in this story.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Warm regards to majoline who graciously betaed this work, making sure the worst of my tense problems, formating errors and lapses in getting words into their spots were corrected. Any that remain are but proof of this mighty task, and totally on me.
> 
> You are the blue pencil lifting my prose.

Dating Steve wasn't what Bruce had expected. Steve wasn't hesitant, she clasped his hand easily, sometimes even drew him into her side. He could tell she was looking at two cities, Now and Then. She shared what Was with sporadic asides, not quite nostalgic, and she'd surprise him at times expounding on improvements.

Steve was snarky. She was sharp tongued, quick with quips. Steve had radar for kids having 'is it, isn't it' consternation on spotting her and gave each one a wink. Somehow only NYC's under twelves recognized them, realized that Captain America was walking down the street, or was hanging on the subway.

Bruce was now using the subway, which he'd scrupulously avoided. Yeah, dating Steve wasn't what he expected. Steve kept punching holes in everything Bruce believed about the Other Guy, and why he manifested. Bruce still was very angry, but he wasn't alone, his back turning green wasn't his only defense.

Steve kissed him first and 'glacial' might have come up. But seeing her steal lines before Tony could say them? Priceless. So too was Steve stretching an arm across the back of the couch and around Bruce's shoulders.

\-------------

"Got everything in hand?" 

Considering the way Steve blushed, she shouldn't be able to plant verbal mines like that. She at least was considerate about not doing it while people were drinking.

Bruce reached out, clasped her hand and looked her in the eye. Now he did. She smiled and leaned in, kissing him lingeringly. He pressed into it.

"I'd say something about young love, but your median age could retire." Tony gravitated to the coffee machine, ignoring how his comment nudged Steve from Bruce.

Bruce figured Tony had surfaced for human interaction and was covering with caffeine. That, or he couldn't be bothered to clean the filter in the shop. Either way his interruption had burst the moment. 

"Our mean is younger than you." Steve moved further away from Bruce, and towards the stove. "Stay for breakfast."

Tony started to leave, but Natasha had appeared behind him. Bruce had been surprised Tony invited the two SHIELD agents, and that hadn't stopped even as Tony bantered with Clint.

Natasha pointedly did not cook, though she would slice, dice and occasionally mash; Steve had been encouraging shared meals. The common floor's kitchen was prepared to cook for an army, with a walk in freezer and a produce chiller in addition to the 'regular' fridge. Bruce went in for the bag of pre-cut potatoes, bringing them to Steve. She smiled; she wouldn't go in there, and entered the chiller only with duress.

"Do stay." Bruce didn't understand why Tony was watching Steve cook. Natasha carved a pineapple and sliced a quarter-peck of peaches. It really hadn't become less disturbing. Fascinating and disturbing. Steve arranged the fruit on the range's grill.

Clint appeared just as they were sitting; he was performing first aid as he stepped in and got down a plate. Bruce looked him over.

"Stevie, share an avocado?"

That was Clint's contribution, he could add about five hundred calories to Steve's meal without her feeling guilty.

"Sure."

Their archer, likely released against medical advice, washed, cut an avocado in half and broke an egg in each, sliding the pair into the salamander. He got out the ricotta and the coconut flakes, bringing them to the table and then retrieved the avocado halves.

\-------------

Bruce hung back in the elevator. While the doors wouldn't open if the passenger wasn't welcome, he felt uncomfortable being in Steve's apartment, felt he was intruding coming uninvited. He stepped out, aware that he was inconveniencing anyone that wanted the car.

Two things were evident. Familiarity hadn't been the designer's précis and Tony owned prime real estate. There was a system of tracks, panels and shelves that could reconfigure most of the space. The elevator was flanked by a sweeping wall that swooped down letting the light spill over it.

He followed his ears and found-- it wasn't a kitchenette. It was too big for that diminutive. And it was everything that term had been intended to mean. There was no 'refrigerator', the role divided into drawers and cupboards, the oven and microwave positioned chest high. The round table with its spindle base was positioned to take in the skyline and in complete communication with the cook, a privacy wall guarding the sink. It was retro without any of the compromises that had been made as one breakthrough chased another.

"Hi." Steve set down the platter on the table. Bruce sat as she did, noticing the saucers on the table. He helped himself to one of the steamed buns.

"Bruce?"

He squeezed too hard and hot filling escaped. It didn't hurt, exactly, and it didn't squirt all over him like his usual luck. He'd drifted, he was out of his depth. He licked his fingers, and Steve smiled at him. Bruce grinned back.

They ate and chatted, Steve passing him a washrag and then a towel before giving him the nickel tour. It wasn't lost on Bruce how the bathroom had been designed to cope with any recovery Steve might have to undergo. She wasn't invulnerable, she just could take much more damage and keep going.

There was a drafting table set up to take advantage of north light and green wall panels angled nearby. It was beautiful because it was practical. He sat with Steve on a high backed couch. They made out.

Steve slipped her hands into Bruce's shirt. She pulled his hands under her blouse. They took their time, familiarity breeding not contempt but leisure. Steve was amazing. Bruce kept himself banked, enjoyed this for what it was.

"Take my shirt off." Steve got up, leaning over him. She kissed him, easing into his mouth as he pushed buttons through buttonholes. Her breasts were wonderful but it was her abdominals he found amazing, tantalizing under protective plush.

She knelt down straddling his legs, dealing with his shirt. He moaned as she pressed her hands against him. He was all exposed nerves and she was a balm, concentrated pleasure. Bruce unhooked her bra, eager to please, to wrest as many low moans from her before they had to part.


	2. Chapter 2

"What?" He was always out of it when he shifted back. When he regained consciousness after Hulk left him back to his body. He looked down. "It worked."

"Nice that Victor gave your pants a test run."

Bruce smiled at Tony's grousing. Von Doom, Dr. Richards and Tony had all been at MIT on an overlapping basis. The robots hadn't been much of a threat once they got them away from people.

The Human Torch landed. "Purple, really? Sue is inviting your team over once this is cleaned up. Captain America picked you?" He gave Bruce a hand up.

Tony apparently was a good antigen protocol for Johnny Storm. Bruce filed that away to provoke Tony later. He was a little surprised he was conscious so soon. "Burp."

Johnny laughed, "Street food," and then went to deal with crowds surging back for souvenirs. Bruce picked his way barefoot out of the destruction. The attack had happened at lunchtime for maximum pandemonium, taking out several food trucks and vendor carts. He shook his head, but it wasn't the worst thing the Other Guy had eaten. A T-shirt was pressed upon him, Tony naturally having found the Captain America the Beautiful design hilarious.

Happy met them at the Baxter building with clothes for the team: Steve, Tony, Clint and himself. Natasha and Thor had separate responsibilities. The need to hose down a crowd had apparently came up before. Sue grabbed Steve, escorting her away.

Clean and back in his own clothes, he made his way towards the Fantastic Four's living room.

"Damn, I'm hot but you're smoking!" 

Bruce went towards Steve and Johnny. He noticed the beautiful blind woman navigating for Grimm.

"Sue, we got any cousins to explain this?"

"There's no explaining you," Ben growled out like a well worn chestnut.

Steve took his hand before Bruce could feel too lost, Tony and Reed peeling off to talk inventions. The group snacked on platters meant for the evening's now postponed event. Bruce wondered if Doom really was that petty. Probably.

Alicia, a sculptor, got into a conversation about art with Steve. It's complicated by their experiences being so different, visual versus tactile.

"So, astronaut?" It's not smooth, pulling Ben Grimm into a totally different conversation but Steve had been fascinated by space exploration, and that someone from Brooklyn had been part of it. 

\-------------

Bruce was straining, his shirt hung unbuttoned and Steve stripped to the waist. Bruce pressed his face into the crook of Steve's neck. Steve carded his hair and Bruce relaxed into it. He liked this intimacy, it was why he'd not left already. There was so much he wanted to do for Steve. He kneaded her ass, stroked up her spine, kissing her, his tongue tentative.

Steve pulled him against her, thigh between his legs, strong arms wrapped around his back, mouth hot and wet. He was going to come. It wouldn't be risky, there was enough clothing between them. Bruce looked up, meeting her eyes. 

"I... trust me?" Steve asked.

Bruce bit his lip, lowered his eyes. It was himself he didn't trust. Steve sat up, stood drawing him with her, skimmed his shirt from his shoulders and down his arms, moving behind him. There was a frisson as she hugged him to her, chin over his shoulder. Her fingers teased tantalizingly over his chest. He wanted to drop to his knees, for her to bear down on him. She settled her hand on his waistband, on the button of his trousers.

"Steve?" He was so hard.

"May I take you in hand?"

It was surprise enough that he didn't come.

"Please," she breathed out. 

Bruce realized he hadn't assented and he found his tongue thick. "Steve, yes."

She unbuttoned, unzipped him, his trousers fell, shorts pushed past his ass. She gripped him at the base, kept him from going off, then teased back and forth from balls to shaft. Her smooth fingertips skated the head with just enough pressure not to be unnerving. 

While Steve worked him, she kissed the nape of his neck, her other hand sliding down his sternum to card his chest hair. Close, close-- Bruce pulled her free hand up to his head where she clenched, tugged.

Bruce flew. Spurted, slumped; Steve was holding him up.

"That," she sounded wrecked, throaty and low. 

She kissed him, deep, entreating, wet and hot. She shifted him into a carry.

Bruce wanted things he couldn't give her. As he drifted, the realization that Steve had angled to apply calluses the Serum had unmade floated up. 

"Thank you," She said as sleep claimed him.

\-------------------------------

Matters weren't always bad enough to need the Other Guy, but when they were... Bruce wasn't pushed down as far as he used to be. He could keep track of Steve, the battle in general. The sticky communicator was working well. Tony stayed focused on that channel. Steve, Clint and Tony were the ones that had access.

It was worse when the Other Guy wasn't needed, when Bruce was observing everything, trying to support and not hulk out. If he was needed as Bruce, there wasn't the pressure from the Other Guy. 'Star' and Tin Man bubbled up softly. Both of them useless on the sidelines was the worst.

Steve took a falling brick wall. Bruce tamped down on the Other Guy, holding his breath, exhaling when her blonde head resurfaced from her shield's cover. Bruce looked over the area, then unbuttoned his shirt and walked towards Steve turning green as he went under.

\---------------------

Bruce looked up at the planetarium's ceiling with its skyscape of stars. The Tower did give them something of a view, but the fainter stars were still washed out by the city's glow below. Steve held his hand, subtly signing into his palm how even then Brooklyn had lost much of the constellations, only the brightest stars or the moon above. One of the girls on the tour had named them for Steve; she'd left a farm looking for excitement in the city (not New York) and instead crossed the vast country on a Bond pitch. Steve had pointed them out in turn to Bucky, while the Commandos traipsed across Europe.

He liked their private sidebar, that let them converse in museums about paintings in cities under siege, openings that Steve had seen, whatever came to mind without being overheard or shushed.

Tony broke it, and Clint had chuckled in what Bruce was sure was a blatant hint that the channel was compromised. Natasha had given them some pointers on better codes. Steve loved testing the waters with double entendres and riddles.

She turned some of the gestures into free-floating punch-lines and mixed in random bits that meant nothing. Steve didn't miss a trick.

\---------------

"Steve?" Bruce turned the brown wrapped parcel in his hands.

"Open it. It's a gift."

Bruce sat, and grabbed at tape, not that there was much. Inside there was tissue paper, and within that was a shaving mug, soap included. "Trying to tell me something?" His words were perhaps too brittle.

"I bought it, forgetting--Bucky and I had to share a bar, before, same stuff we washed our clothes with."

Oh. Bruce leaned in and kissed Steve's neck, then sniffed at the mug. Scent was a powerful mode of memory.

"You don't have a brush, do you?" She looked crushed, piecing together how much had changed.

He didn't, not yet. "Where did you find it?" Surely the vendor would also sell the brushes.

\---------------

"Pepper, I'm wounded."

"I'm sorry, but I'm running away with Bruce."

Barton almost spit all over an ambassador. Pepper slipped over to Tony before anyone got the idea she was serious.

"Bruce is my friend, not yours."

Okay, he wasn't touching this. Natasha intercepted him, ordering him to give her a turn on the dance-floor. She didn't speak, but she relaxed partway through their first dance, and perked up after their second. Someone Bruce couldn't quite attach to a name cut in thereafter. How had he become a barbless hook?

"May I have this dance?"

Bruce smiled at Steve and escorted her onto the floor. It felt illicit, the way they didn't act like they were dating when they were at these things. More so tonight. Steve had been right, preparation did make for a closer shave.

She'd laughed when he'd fumbled about the difference between a cut-throat and a safety razor, not that there was much safe about a double edged bit of steel. It wasn't the first time he'd used her gift. She'd stood before him as she lathered the soap with the bristles and smoothed it over his cheeks, jaw and neck, and behind him as she shaved him in the mirror.

He got focused on the dance, got a bit complicated and tamped down one sort of excitement for a different kind of thrill. In the end ballroom was patterns and he could do patterns. It was intimate, like a conspiracy of two. Steve made him feel more like Cary Grant at these things. Handsome, wanted.


	3. Chapter 3

Bruce clasped Steve's hands in his, resting his forehead against hers. "What can I do for you?" He'd meant to broach this sooner; things escalated into him getting satisfaction leaving Steve hanging. It didn't matter which quarters they were in, Steve would put him to bed in hers just as easily as in his own.

"It's fine." She tipped away and in for a kiss.

That wasn't convincing, any more than it was fair. "Steve, I don't want this to just be about me. You deserve pleasure." Steve could realize she could do so much better than him.

"I like watching you." Steve teased Bruce with her hands, letting him hold them. "It's- sometimes I thought about men, Before."

Before the Serum, when Steve was a man. In the 1940s, 1930s, Steve was gay-- That. "Sometimes?"

"We had looker dames." She said it with Brooklyn pride.

Bruce couldn't contradict that. Proof was right before him. "And after?"

"I still noticed both." She paused. "I was careful."

Bruce shifted them, pulling Steve to him. "It's called bisexual, being attracted to either sex." He realized that it would be easier if Steve wanted a woman, then she wouldn't have to worry about pregnancy.

"I'm attracted to you. Thought this was about you being sweet on me, or did I misunderstand?"

"No misunderstanding." Bruce wanted Steve. "I want to see you, give you pleasure. Kiss you--"

Steve kissed him, scattering his words before her. Buttons--hers, his-- slid free of their holes. He bore her down on the couch keeping his knees under him and his pelvis clear of hers. He trailed down her chin and neck, up to her lips, and back down to her clavicle, the swell of her breasts cupped by her bra. He unhooked it, lay his hands on the revealed hills. She planted her foot on his calf, hands knitted in his hair. Bruce touched the tip of his tongue to her nipple. He rolled his thumb over the other while he laved the first.

He kissed under Steve's breasts and up the valley between them, her throat, took her mouth. She was trying to pull him down on top of her with her legs. He worked back down to the opposite side with his mouth. He knew she'd clench if he slid a finger into her. He worked down her ribs, returning to the spring of her mouth and continuing down. Her navel was hidden by her waistband. Bruce undid the two top buttons, one to each side, then two more. He latched onto her bellybutton and her legs wrapped around his back. Another two buttons and he skinned the sailor flares off.

Bruce reared back, easing one of her knees to his mouth, licking the back. Steve was making appreciative noises, cut off as they were. He switched to the other knee. Steve was beautiful writhing in flesh-tone boy shorts. He held her feet behind his neck, pressing his thumbs along her soles.

Steve levered up and kissed him, pulling Bruce back with her. Her legs sliding down him were paradise. He roamed again, along her jaw, down her neck, shoulder, from one breast summit to the other and then down down to her navel. He teased at her shorts, kissing revealed skin. A hand pushed him away. "Steve?"

"That's," Her voice was low and breathy. "No." She adjusted her panties. Bruce started to get up, only to get caught by the arm. "Just not, that." He let himself be drawn back in. They'd have to discuss this later. Steve was intriguingly flexible and Bruce reapplied himself. Steve started to buck, and Bruce brought his hand to her mons.

"Bruce--, Bruce--, Bru-Oh."

He had been right, she had clenched around his finger sliding into her. He worked it, watching her crest higher and higher as she breathed quiet imprecations. He added a second finger carefully, twisting them around each other. Beautiful, her ecstasy was breathtaking. Steve built and built, Bruce parted his fingers, curled them and she crescendoed. He gentled her, pulled his fingers free.

"Wow." She was flushed, breathing deeply. Her nipples were tight and she sprawled satisfied.

"May I go... Get cleaned up?"

"Lather your Rather." She stretched sybaritically, grinning.

Bruce draped his shirt over Steve.


	4. Chapter 4

They had a date night that they dressed for, boxes of 'treats', and JARVIS prepared a classic presentation of their feature with cartoons and other trimmings. For Steve most all of the movies were new, as even many classics of the Silver Screen post-dated her polar plunge. Bruce thought the AI enjoyed himself selecting shorts and producing modern newsreel summaries.

\-----------------------

Bruce couldn't believe he was doing this, riding bitch on Steve's bike in Manhattan. He'd chuckled and said no when she handed him the helmet down in the parking garage, and yet after a discussion he donned it and climbed on. He tried to forget she'd only rode in peacetime since she'd thawed, that she'd only drove before in the short period from rescuing the 107th to crashing the plane. It was physics, and Steve's kinesthetic sense was perfect.

\----------------------

Movie nights had stopped being 'catch Steve up' marathons. People had since created lists they thought she should see, and expressed if they wanted to be there when she did, if she did. Steve had seen most of the touchstones and looked at the list when at loose ends. Now the team chose movies for the regular motives. Steve retained a level of decorum that didn't involve sprawling while watching, though she didn't mind a foot rub if he sat on the floor.

Currently he was the one being cosseted with a head massage, feeding her popcorn intermittently. It kept her from popping up to wash hands every time she switched.

\--------------------

"Not nearly as scandalous as advertised." He took in Roger's long legs propped on Bruce's shoulders as she did sit ups.

Tony looked ridiculous outfitted like Rocky Balboa in sweats complete with siphon water bottle. Not that Bruce really had room to cast stones from his position as impromptu sit-up equipment, or that he believed that Steve hadn't planned his role.

"What are you angling for?" Steve didn't pause while she waited for Tony's answer, keeping at sitting up and laying back, arms crossed over her chest and legs extended past Bruce's shoulders.

"Pepper has this thing and you showing up would make her night."

"'Thing?'" Steve continued to encourage Tony to use definite nouns.

"Dinner with the First Lady. And the President, I think."

Bruce watched Steve stop mid-sit and turn her head. Tony cascaded words, Pepper was being honored, young women were being recognized, and Michelle was going to be excited. Steve interjected about not being invited and Tony explained the Kabuki of guest lists and invitations.

"You really think this won't steal Pepper's thunder?"

Steve had a point.

"This is the kind of surprise Pepper will love, since she'll get to introduce you two."

Bruce looked at Tony who swanned out once he had Steve's assent.

\---------------------

It turned out that Tony was right, that Pepper was thrilled to see them at the White House. It was a semi-formal event, at least Bruce thought that was what Natasha said it boiled down to. He'd taken her into confidence, since he had no clue how to dress. He knew she'd taken Steve out.

Pepper got to introduce the First Lady to Captain America, and there were some selfies snapped showing off biceps. Michelle was charming and gracious, shaking his hand, mentioning how many of the young women being honored were in the sciences.

Mostly, Bruce was surplus to purpose. Tony harassed him a little while Steve went to talk with the President. She wasn't gone long, and she didn't say anything about an upcoming mission. Something was on her mind though as they ate a meal nicer than any he recalled from awards ceremonies prior to the Avengers.

"He knows."

Bruce wondered what Steve meant, guiding her about the dance floor. She obliquely contact signed to him that the President knew she'd been defrosted. Steve further went into the thanks bestowed on Captain America for leading the first integrated squad. It was clear how much speaking with the President meant to Steve.

He wondered if the President also knew about Steven Grant Rogers.

Steve shook her head. Bruce hadn't signed anything. She smiled, then squeezed and tapped that Barack would consider it a personal favor if she's let Michelle know. Bruce kept them moving.


	5. Chapter 5

"I'd just thought the before pictures had been lost over more than fifty years."

He should have been more curious about the first subject. He should have been a lot of things when it came to his research. More concerned, more cautious. He hadn't questioned what had turned out to be fake after photos. Propaganda.

"Peggy and Howard. There weren't many photos. What I was to become was the important part."

How could that possibly be true?

"Could you draw yourself?" He wanted to know who Steve was before the world was placed on her shoulders.

Steve looked to say no, then shrugged. "I'll need a pencil, some paper."

Maybe she had meant to put him off, but just as Bruce was always within fifty feet of his preferred graph paper, there were sheets akin to the better typing paper of his college days. Steve carried a penknife, the larger blade snapped before Bruce had found it. She shaped the lead to her satisfaction. Bruce headed into the kitchen. When he came back with grilled cheese sandwiches and soup, she showed it to him.

No wonder Steve had been so sick. Bruce had seen many sporadically malnourished people during his travels. Each bout of illness would have put young Steve further behind, strained reserves he didn't have. Stubborn and wits would have been his only grace.

"That's some jaw."

Bruce reminded himself that everyone to blame was dead, except it wasn't true. People die, structural inequality is eternal.

"Yeah, Bucky said to watch out, Samson might pick me up by mistake."

"You were important before the Serum." Living to that point couldn't have been easy, and facing the changes wrought-- "Jackass."

Steve chuckled. "He was that. We both were, he was better at time and place." She picked up her sandwich.

Bruce thought as he ate about the man that should have been, who wouldn't have been so very desperate to submit to an experiment. A man that would have been very old if not dead. He squeezed Steve's hand.

Steve kissed him, giving him a wink.

\----------------

Bruce was not going to hulk out. It was never a well-kept secret that Dr. Banner had become the victim of his own hubris. That wasn't the same as having it splashed in full-color, one more item of the 24 hour 'news' cycle. He'd gotten a pass several times as a 'walker', but being Captain America's regular 'companion' invited investigation apparently.

Someone thought it was a good use of resources to compile his post-hulk nudity and blue bubble provocatively. They made sure to show his face, mostly from when he was conscious.

He mourned their anonymity. He enjoyed going to museums with Steve; now he wouldn't be able to see her react, wouldn't be inspired to share what he had seen in his travels. Bruce would be the pariah that he deserved to be.

Hands clapped his sides. Tony!

"Strut. You've outgrown the incognito period. You are brilliant, good-looking and dating a lethal blonde. Live the dream!"

"Lethal blonde?" Steve asked, entering the room.

Bruce fought giggling, Steve was stringing Tony. A genius, verbal brawler took the bait like he was a fish.

"Point of fact. Couples interviews. You should do them. Probably not the same shows I do, but the PR department know the lay of the land." Tony smiled. "Attributes and assets, Captain. You're a team." Their inventor-industrialist swanned off.

Steve pulled Bruce into a hug and he relaxed into her strong body. The Other Guy was with them but he wasn't going to become big and green. Steve carded his hair. Tony was right, his life still had a lot going for it.

"I'm going to have to get my hair cut."

"My barbering won't pass muster for that sort of scrutiny." Steve agreed all too readily.

She threaded her hands in deeper, rubbing his scalp. He didn't like the chairs, the mirrors, the sharp instruments behind him. Ceding that much control, normal as it was--Bruce focused on Steve. She was comforting.

\------------------------

One down. He'd gotten through the interview. Steve had gone on first, worked the audience, gotten them entranced and provided them with urls as a favor to the First Lady before Bruce came on. He was on for five minutes, mostly as Steve's boyfriend. He'd hated it; the Other Guy stayed calm.

Bruce wasn't used to having his hair so short; he'd as a child been buzz-cut several times as a year and left to become shaggy the rest. It wasn't that closely cropped.

The shop was barely wider than he could touch with his arms outstretched. He'd have backed out if not for the straight back chair. He wondered if the barber had brought it down from his own apartment. He didn't act like it was any trouble, though it had to be.

He smiled, thinking on the momentary consternation the older man had when Steve decided she wanted a haircut too. She'd sat in the regular chair though, and that seemed to get him back in the game. Afterwards, he'd handed her a pen and told her to sign the wall. 

\----------------------

Bruce still got to go to museums with Steve, gala events. Watching her made it worth the tuxedoes and the-- he breathed deep. She smelled of orange blossom and cinnamon, gorgeous in yet another dress. After the first couple of these he started carrying a small sketchpad and some pencils, passing them to her as her hand itched to capture a line.

She'd slept with him that night for the first time, came to his floor in a robe, makeup removed. The next morning she'd jerked him crouching over his thighs, but it was her as the big spoon as they slipped into sweats-clad sleep that was novel. 

Bruce stroked Steve's hand hooked on his elbow. He knew she didn't like these things, though it didn't show; he was the classic introvert. Steve was graceful, possessed of flare. It was like squiring a distillation of the Silver Screen, even though to Steve most of the classics were 'new'.

Bruce pulled out the sketchpad and pencils, switching positions to give Steve cover.

\------------

They do the West Coast shows one after another in less than a week, and they slip into several small museums under the light of day. Ellen asks to kiss him, as she's collecting scientists. Another show, Steve does pushups. With the host standing on her back. There is a kerfuffle about the camera angle, and the slippers the host wore also trend.

In New York, he went on the Daily Show solo, while Steve played the Colbert Report to the hilt wearing a costume version of the Captain America uniform. John Stewart and Stephen Colbert were fun after, though he's not sure if Stephen or he was more disturbed by the extended riff John and Steve achieved. Bruce at least knew how much Eddie Cantor Steve has seen. The team watched the two shows together.


	6. Chapter 6

They were sleeping together more often than not, sometimes in his bed, sometimes in hers. Each kept some sleep sweats in the other's quarters. Sometimes he borrowed shirts from Steve, though he checked the buttons and labels before doing so. She wore things tighter than he liked for himself, but it still left some ease.

Their routines were comfortable, the shared meals and cooking for the team, his time in the lab, the occasional call out (fortunately there haven't been really so many super-villains, and Dr. Doom was the Fantastic Four's special snowflake), her art, date outings, reading.

He liked cutting in at charity balls. It's not a constant thing, just when someone monopolizes Steve. The events happen a lot, like fundraising is their main function. Strangely they are rarely interrupted by alien incursions, mad scientists (who are, he points out to Tony, generally engineers gone bad) or trans-dimensional rifts. He's done the statistics, it's significant. 

\------------------

Bruce looked at the other Avengers, more or less splattered in thick grey mud, confused as he took a shirt from Steve. He noted the off-spec red of the Iron Man suit. "How did it go?"

"A most valorous game! Mayhaps your other self would meet the Lady Sif? She could teach it to the Warriors Three and trounce them soundly!"

Bruce didn't miss that Thor was the muddiest of the lot. The gravel pit was more uneven than it had been when they'd arrived. It had been a game of chase and grab. Hulk had two places to 'stash' whom he caught, and the free could let people out. He looked at the sun; they'd played all day. His stomach rumbled.

"Feast!" Thor shouted as a matter of course, so it was more a roar of proclamation. Clint did one of his high five feints, which still amused Thor.

"Clean up first!" Steve was caked, wearing not her uniform, but a long sleeve blue tee with a white star over her sternum. Her hair and face were the only relatively clean parts. "Hi." She leaned to kiss him without marking him.

"Went well?" Everyone was intact.

"Recount third, eat second." Steve went to wash.


	7. Chapter 7

"I want us to reconsider intercourse."

Bruce looked up from the tablet and the journal article he was reading. His mouth was dry. He thought of the different variables, of where this conversation could have been broached, under what conditions. "What's changed?"

"I don't want to get pregnant. Switching off, it's not a long-term solution."

Bruce felt his stomach drop. His father... He wouldn't hurt Steve, he was a danger, his heart rate sped, he was having a panic attack. He couldn't stop panicking about what damage transforming here would wreck, even knowing that just increased the probabilities of panicking and doing precisely that.

Steve wrapped arms around him, not trapping him. Her breathing was even, regular. Her cheek pressed against his. The Other Guy wasn't coming. Bruce was having a panic attack and not Hulking out.

It was scary. He hadn't had one since the Incident that didn't result in him becoming big and green. He'd tried everything to avoid them. He'd figured out ways to stem them. It felt like he was having a recursive set. He was a mess, he could feel he was crying, that snot was clogging his nostrils, escaping down his face.

When the crying jag was over he found that he had a handkerchief in his hand. Steve had had one in her pocket, of course she had and had handed it to him, just as of course she was still warm against his back, nuzzling his hair. Bruce mopped at his face, clearing the snot and gummy tears. He'd still be glazed with shame, salt rime and slug tracks of nostril discharge. He folded the cloth so the cleanest bits gave a place to pinch it, leaving it in his lap.

Steve didn't ask. Steve didn't leave. Her fingertips brushed against him. She wouldn't hurt him, she could, but she wouldn't. Bruce knew Natasha had taught Steve ways to incapacitate she'd never known in the war. He could feel that knowledge in every place Steve didn't touch. There were so many pressure points that only aware people could avoid them all.

"I want to clean up."

Bruce took comfort that Steve trusted him, let him go. He headed into the en suite, stripped. He glanced at her from the shower, watching her roll toothpaste onto the brush.

He finished, and he stepped past her, still toweling off. A set of his sweats were on the bed. Bruce pulled them on, then took the damp towel back to the bathroom. He got into Steve's bed. She slid in behind him, also fleece clad.

\-------------------------

Bruce threw himself into research. He did want Steve, that had never been an issue. He didn't like the standard condom failure rates. He acknowledged he'd procrastinated; having exhausted the search for a cure, and established baselines, he hadn't wanted to know more. The Army had tried claiming him entire as "research material", and his blood had been synthesized into a Serum formula.

His ejaculate was radioactive. He'd expected that, since his blood was. His sperm were not, which frankly surprised him. They were extremely durable, remaining viable much longer than normal.

He ran some tests on Steve. Hormones didn't stop her from ovulating. He had some horrible nightmares based on that. He found that anything effective as a spermicide wasn't safe for internal use. That was two back ups out of the running.

He brought in Dr. Richards and Dr. McCoy for consultation. They were experts in meta human and mutant biology. They concurred on his ovulation findings and neither doctor trusted that an IUD would actually interrupt implantation. The nightmares returned.

Dr. McCoy took him aside, too perceptive by half. He pointed out that in the case of actual pregnancy a more subtle cocktail of hormones would be in play. Furthermore, if Steve did still ovulate the conditions needed for implantation wouldn't be ripe.

They weren't much more successful coming at the matter from his side. Bruce was just about as resistant to alterations of his biochemistry as Steve- the option did seem viable for regular men with further research and trials. Bruce healed when he transformed into and back from the Other Guy, so vasectomy wasn't an option. No.

A better condom, all of that to determine they needed a better condom. That was all they'd gotten for letting the two scientists know that Steve was the original Operation Rebirth subject.

It already existed.

\-----------------------

"Steve."

Bruce had considered how to tell her. This wasn't about him, not alone, and he needed to let her know the science was done. So, no more planning, no more stalling.

"I have findings."

Steve was much more flexible, he needed the comfort of forms. She squeezed his hand. He didn't doubt she was on the right page. He resisted dropping her hand, distancing himself. He looked at her, terrified at how marvelous it was she had time for him.

"There is no perfect solution."

Steve smiled, encouragingly. Bruce sank back into the couch. He couldn't look at her, but he held on. "An improved condom exists, Dr. Reed developed it in the aftermath of his team becoming fantastic."

"It's the best choice?"

There wasn't a choice. "Nothing has a better success rate." That was the better choice, the surer choice. Steve would be better off with someone else.

"It's something. That's more than we had."

Bruce looked at her. He hadn't really doubted her, but his relief was a fact. She pulled him to her, wrapped herself around him. It wasn't that it wasn't sexual-- Steve was so physical, Bruce didn't think it could be removed from the background state. It wasn't just sexual--that missed something too.

"We also have knowledge, more than we'd had. Powerful combination." She breathed, calm. Steve was so warm. "I've worked with less." Possessing. "I've never been more motivated."

That. "Not getting into the army? Not for Operation Rebirth?" He was not bringing up rescuing the 107th; he knew that was incidental, that Steve had only really thought of Sergeant James Barnes. That rescue, barely planned, hardly supported, demonstrated why Steve was the greatest tactician of that generation. With the subsequent actions, then and now; on its own it could be discounted as a fluke. He also wasn't bringing up Schmidt or Zola, again because of Sergeant James Barnes. Bruce would not be jealous of a man dead so long, nor invoke his ghost between them.

"I'm as motivated as I've ever been. Full stop."

He believed Steve. You couldn't not. It was overwhelming. He held onto her. Bruce had never... He felt the Other Guy's exasperated relief, with its wordless Told You. He loosened his doubt that he didn't deserve her. He couldn't let it go, but he also trusted Steve. His belief in her and her belief in him trumped his doubt in himself.


	8. Chapter 8

Bruce struggled to keep calm; not to keep the Other Guy in check. He was so aroused and blowing it this close-- they were going for it. They had talked it over, once he was calmer. This should be the safest time, even if something were to go wrong. They knew what to do if it did, but it wouldn't. He had to believe that, and was nearly as successful as the probability it was true.

They'd discussed how they would do this. Bruce pulled back, to catch his breath and look at Steve. She was driving this bus. So beautiful, so powerful. He clutched her ass, rolled his chest against her bare breasts. Her calls.

"Take them off. Get on the bed."

They would do this. He pushed his briefs down, stepped from them and got onto the bed. He jutted, slick with pre-cum. Steve pulled down her panties and knelt up over him sliding the condom down and then herself. He struggled to not follow her, she was coming, he could feel her around him and she was moving and still coming, maybe coming again. They were kissing, making love and he shattered.

Steve had dealt with the condom next he was aware and pulled her panties back on. He wanted to finger her until he was hard again. He wanted to lick her, but Steve had always put him off. He rubbed her through the fabric. The cotton was wet. She clutched his hand still, rolling against his fingers. She kissed him so dirty he should have come again. She skated right up to overstimulation, skimming away before reaching pain. He wasn't hard but Bruce wanted to be, it was clear she wanted him hard. He could give her fingers, he could tongue her. Her show.

The second time was slower, Steve fucking herself on him gorgeous, wild. He held her down on him, arching up. He drew her through orgasm, cresting and falling but holding his own. She sabotaged him rubbing her fingertips over his balls gently. This time he watched her pull off him and remove the condom. He slid two fingers into her, Steve clenching around them. He waited and she released enough he could stroke out and in. She ground to another orgasm, still quivering as she pulled away and got off the bed, headed for his bathroom.

Bruce circled his glans with slick fingers. He gets hard again thinking about Steve. He rolls over onto his knees giving himself a hand. He loses himself to the slide of flesh over flesh, to images in his head. In the throes of climax Bruce felt the bed shift.

The lukewarm washcloth was rough on his groin, interfering with his glow.

"I'm hungry, I'll be cooking." Steve gets up off the bed, he hears fabric drawn over skin.

Bruce rolls over. She's mad, has every right to be mad. Bruce took a quick shower and dressed. Steve liked watching him orgasm. He should have waited. Maybe she had wanted to have sex again. He walked out of his bedroom and released a breath he hadn't known he was holding. Steve's in his kitchen in sleep pants, cooking for a small army. He got out juice, accepting the tumbler she handed him.

"Like what you see?" Her intonation is friendly, but she says it as he's mid-swallow. He has to stop coughing before he can answer.

"Yes." Lying wouldn't help him. Steve's breasts are beautiful. She didn't go to her floor. And he believed they're in the kitchen because she's hungry. Not that she isn't mad, but not too mad, not mad enough to leave.

"You looked good, too." She pulled him to her, making him stir the, Bruce wasn't sure what it was, though he could identify ingredients. "Maybe you'll give me a show while I'm, you know."

He did know. It didn't take a scientist to figure out the week they didn't sleep together was her period. It also didn't take a genius to know he was still in dangerous territory. He was saved by the bell. He helped her carry food out to his table.

"You should eat too." 

Steve was right, so he found some quick food and joined her. His metabolism was only crazy after he'd transformed, but he'd run through calories in a totally normal way. A fucktastic way.

"Right to smugness granted." Steve held out a forkful of hash-brown. Sweet potato, ube, etc. but hash-browns. He offered a steamed bun. He almost counted his fingers after she took it in two bites. "I'd have liked another go."

Which they could have done, if he'd taken a moment or let her take it. She was hampered by semen contaminated surfaces. He ate and she ate, and Bruce wanted to take her back to bed. He wanted a lot of things he had no right to ask, especially now.


	9. Chapter 9

Bruce looked around; he'd gotten used to more destruction when he woke up in purple pants. Then he saw Susan Richards. Right, force fields. They're also not in Manhattan. He looked around, Ben and Steve were conferring, Tony scanning in case any civilians unaccounted remained in the area. Torch semaphored as only the incendiary could. Right, the Ironman suit was EMP hardened, but not so the first responders' radios.

Today's fight was consequential. The Other Guy had been throwing The Thing like a shotput. Natasha spent most of the fight as Clint's charioteer. 

Steve. Bruce picked his way around debris until he found Steve and Reed, the later rendering first aid to the former. He could see the uniform sliced through in several places.

"Bitching." Johnny touched down and extinguished. "Nice uniform redesign."

Johnny wasn't good for his blood pressure. The physical similarities were unsettling.

"Your style, not mine." Steve backhanded Johnny as she walked past, a knuckle catching a nipple hard from the sound of his groan.

Bruce admitted it looked more like Uhura's Mirror Universe costume, the armor shredded into netting over Steve's stomach.

"No assessing. I'm on the mend."

"Just leering." He second-guessed himself.

"Sorry for doubting you. Continue." Steve caught his hand and lifted her shield higher. The paparazzi had made it through already. He resisted going green as the flashes popped.

Steve sucked down nutrient gel and handed him a bar while they wait for transport. Onboard she shrugged into a smock, grabbing a handful of the fudge brownies and tossing him two. They sat together, eating on the flight back.

Food awaited the team when they landed. He's mostly gotten over being self-conscious in his sweatshirt and a mess, plowing through catering. He gives Pepper a smile as she comes off the elevator on the way to Tony.

He and Steve are sitting back to back, her head lolling back every so often. Fights like today's are more intense and longer than the Howling Commandos' rolling attacks. The rest of that team had just been human. She dozes off while he kept eating, Natasha bringing him more food so he doesn't have to wake Steve. "Thanks." Eventually even his post-Hulk appetite is sated.

"Come to bed with me?" Steve sounded more asleep than awake.

He hugged Steve gently and went with her. They shower perfunctorily and crawled into bed. Steve wrapped herself around him, drifting to sleep. He followed.


	10. Chapter 10

Bruce smiled at the nuzzling at his shoulder, then got up with a, "Right back," and headed into the bathroom. Done, he slid back under the blankets. Steve pulled him over her, wrapped her legs around him. Certainly not unwelcome as wake-ups came. He signaled for the lights to come up a few candles as he leaned in to kiss. He worked her up and the blankets down in tandem. He could smell that she's ready, and he wanted her. He resolved just what she's tapping him on the shoulder with, and attempted to roll them both over. She doesn't budge. He tried harder.

"Please."

Oh. It's not that he didn't want to; he did, enough to have to recite atomic weights in his head. He's just- Bruce pushed the blankets down, palming the wrapped condom. Steve flexed in her shortie pajamas and he's shucking his boxers and rolling the condom on. He rucked her top up so he can see her hard ruby nipples, and pulled her shorts off.

"Beautiful."

Bruce crouched, feeding just the head of his cock into her. He looked up and slowly sheathed himself in her. Steve planted the soles of her feet on his ass, held his head as they kissed. Bruce thrust, pulled back, stroked and made love to her.

He nuzzled her neck, looked her in the eyes, looked down at the connection of their bodies. He reached between them, getting her sparking harder. He came.

Bruce dealt with the condom, cleaned up and returned. Steve pulled him back to her once he got into bed. It's not lost on him that she's not pulled her pajamas back on, that she didn't flip the blankets back over them. He drank her in, traced her sweet curves, noted the healed skin flushed only with his touch. Steve guided him down, smoothed her hands over his back and along his sides. He drowsed.

The second bout is faster, harder. Steve got him sheathed in the condom and drew him down into her. Bruce thrust and Steve drew her legs up, her hands scrambling over his back. He had to pull her back down the bed to keep her from striking the wall. He cupped her breasts, kissed her, made her clench around him. He orgasmed hard enough to white out.

He opened an eye as he realized he's hearing Steve's stomach growling. He's been cleaned up, so he got an arm under her back and found her pajamas.

"Don't want to get up." She dressed anyway

"Breakfast first." He pulled them up and then out of the bedroom.

Steve started making pancake batter, and Bruce got reconstituted scrambled eggs going, shaking copious shredded cheese over it. He's got it plated before the first pancake is ready to flip. "Eat that, I'll cook the pancakes."

Steve looked ready to argue, but put a forkful in her mouth instead. Bruce grinned genially as she started shoveling food. He put a glass under the water tap and once filled set it to Steve's left. He started a plate of pancakes, and between pour and flip, flip and plate, pour again Bruce looked about the kitchen.

"Pork chop?"

Steve nodded. Bruce added in some peppers, cooking and eating pancakes. He tossed in some frozen blueberries to the last of the batter before cooking it.

"You do know it's not an emergency just because I'm rumbling."

"Indulge me."

He's figured out reason is not the tactic to take with Steve on this. He couldn't do anything about Steve's past, but it's no reason for her not to eat when she's hungry. She pulled much the same on him about other things. He tried not to be petulant. He liked having someone care enough to disagree that he's worth less. He plated up the chop and peppers, handing it to her. He turned off the burner under the griddle and pulled out some turkey sausages. They did taste better fried in pork grease.

He laughed when Steve seized two cooked from his plate. Bruce slipped around the counter to finish up eating beside her. "I'm a lucky man." He grinned at Steve.

"I know."

Bruce chuckled. He made a better Wookie than a princess. They finished eating and Steve put their plates and forks into the dishwasher drawer and set it to run.

"Come back to bed."

So he did.


	11. Chapter 11

"Doctor Banner, you are requested in the common room." JARVIS intoned delicately.

He pulled back from his readings, noting the time. "Who is requesting me?"

"You won't want to miss this." The AI continued. "Are you familiar with Dyne Technologies?"

Bruce nodded. Vernon van Dyne had been a leading expert in gamma radiation. His company was in most every field of applied science, including research instruments. He took off his lab coat and headed for the elevator, gesturing for JARVIS to keep recording and secure files.

Now, he had expected Tony or Pepper to be in attendance, since there was a certain overlap between SI and DT. Instead he saw a petite woman hanging from Clint's bent arm.

She dropped the few inches back to the floor. "And the deliciously rumpled doctor." The unexplained woman looked him over, then reached out a hand to Steve, who mid-fived it back. "I'm here to make you well-dressed. Public service really."

Bruce came up with her name. Janet van Dyne, heiress of Dyne Technologies. The press thought of her as a celebrity, she was a fashion designer he recalled. She also was a topologist. She had contributed to aviation in ways that were still top-secret.

"Not that you aren't all wonderful; actually, that's why I came. I'm tired of disjointed canvases and you're a collected set."

"Ms-"

"Jan. You call me Jan."

Bruce is struck by them, Steve and the diminutive van Dyne, who is likely even smaller than Steve was before the serum.

"My agenda is ease and flair. A pocket that won't contain isn't a pocket, it's a provocation. Want to step forward against fear and greed?" She moved on then, not over-playing her pitch. "We can make the clothes move as you want them to." She looked Clint over. "Same for you, but I can guarantee they won't be able to remember your face no matter how many pictures they publish."

She didn't get to him, as at that moment Pepper came out of the elevator. She air kissed Ms van Dyne. He couldn't make out their sidebar conversation, though Steve would.

"Jan! What a surprise." Tony wedged himself in between the two women. "What do we owe this honor to?" He put his hand willfully into Pepper's.

"You've collected some mighty fine looking heroes here, I want to dress them."

Tony laughed then looked at her flinty. Bruce was either concerned or intrigued. Jan gave just as good as Tony got. He'd heard reports of Spengler-Feynman contests of wills from the war. He looked to Clint and Natasha. He didn't take comfort in their confirmation of his assessment.

"Start on our national monument." Tony was a brat. "And Science Beau here." Tony somehow grabbed him by the arms, though still holding hands with Pepper. Bruce didn't know how he'd moved. "I think you've found your Waterloo."

"Good thing I'm Nelson, not a Corsican." She looked around. "Aren't you short a god?"

"Difficult to keep in stock. You'll have to make separate negotiations with Thor, once he appears. I've left his floor in palatial neutral."

"Steve, Bruce, we're going to be such good friends." She guided them by the elbows.

\---------------

The thing was, Jan and Steve did become good friends. Jan wasn't just a fashion designer/socialite/mathematics genius/heiress, she could talk art. Bruce, to his great pleasure, only needed to appear for a few hours once a week.

He'd been provided a phrase should Tony rib him about his regular clothes while working in the lab, "Dyne has spoken, so shall it be worn" in exchange for trying a new outfit after cleaning up. He's used it twice, and it's worth a bit of bother.

It's not really as bad as-- Jan's approach isn't what he's used to. Bruce has always used thrift stores. On the run, in college, in the system, with his mom... Good enough was often better than he could manage. After the incident, it just didn't matter. What the Other Guy didn't destroy, Bruce lost one run or another.

Jan has his measurements, has defined his preferences. He didn't know there was such a variation in collar sizes, in arm lengths. He'd always been the problem, never fitting the clothes.

He's not sure about some of the new clothes. They seem too nice for him. He feels guilty wearing cashmere just because it's in his drawer. He does like the colors. Jan has, with Steve's input, made it so most of his clothes work together. Some combinations are more vibrant than others, but his browns are ones that work with the greens and blues they've chosen. The patterns are not there as landmines.

Steve looked fantastic. She did regardless, but there is a difference between a fitted shirt and a large enough envelope. Sometimes the later was all Steve wanted but having a choice, Bruce can see how that's important. He's looked at the shirts, they are complicated. Seams to allow for the swell of her breasts and the taper of her waist, gathers at specific points... She has sleeves meant for arms her size, her musculature.

"Bruce, come give your opinion." Jan is smiling in a way that bodes ill.

He comes into the room made by repositioned dividers. He can see the collar, and the cuffs, but the rest of the shirt is missing. It's sheer. It's well sewn, but he can't call it clothing. The bra Steve is wearing is a perfect match for her skin. "Steve?"

"No, Jan."

Jan shrugs. "Wear it under a lacy cardigan."

"No."

"Wear it over a camisole." Jan thought about that. "Laser cut silk."

"I'm not running around nearly naked."

"One last shirt then. Go ahead and take that off."

Bruce noticed that part of the color match was that there wasn't as much bra where he expected it. There were no shoulder straps. He stepped around to look at the back. It looked like the cabling of a bridge.

"It fastens in the front." Steve looked at him over one shoulder.

Bruce stepped back around. It hadn't been a trick earlier thinking her bosom was more martial, there was a distinct cone shaping going on. He thought the quilting might be structural.

Jan came back, smirking. "I've achieved some interest, yes?" She handed Steve a shirt. "Ignore that it's not the magical bra."

"Magical bra?" Bruce should excuse himself.

"Works but goes unseen." Jan tidied, folding the transparent shirt and settling it on top of other clothing. "Nothing wrong with the right bra being seen if you mean to show it."

"Jan."

"And if you don't want to, that's fine too. Though why you wouldn't... Fine." Jan squirmed. "So, what do you think?"

"This is a tuxedo shirt."

It was. Pin tucked pleats, french cuffs. It however was cut for a woman, reinterpreted so the sleeves and shoulders were sheer, an opaque band accentuated the breasts and the balance of the shirt front was there and not.

"I thought you might like an alternative to gowns."

"Did you bring sketches?"

Jan made a bit of theater, then more honestly took her leave, promising they'd deal with it next time.

Steve and he moved the dividers dissolving the atelier. Bruce started dinner while Steve took the clothes away and changed. She came back in sweats.

"You're still wearing that bra?"

"Noticed? It's comfortable." She slipped behind him, hugging him leaving his arms free. He smiled as she nuzzled his hair. Steve pulled away, skritching his nape before throwing in with meal prep.

As they ate Bruce couldn't avoid thinking how eager Steve had been at an offer of a tuxedo. He doubted that's actually what it would be, he thinks this may be what Jan's been leading up to. She wanted to make a mark, not one as ephemeral as a crease but a paradigm-shift. Funny to think of clothes that way.

After they finish eating and cleaned up, Steve presses against Bruce in dance position. He goes with it, and JARVIS supplies the music. It's a little silly, dressed as they are, but then the Chrysler building was just outside the window.

\-----------------------------------

Bruce looked at the microscope display. McCoy had some intriguing results and he was pursuing a related matter already. It was heady not having to worry about grants or about "application". It was a relief not working on his own condition.

He'd published something. Very specialized journal, but seeing his credit in electronic print warmed him. He was too exposed in the popular press, even with the purple pants. He's made a point of not reading the 'articles' critiquing Steve and himself. Steve has with JARVIS made compilations of the best photos; he knows there is also a file of the ridiculous.

"JARVIS, please put up a candid." He laughed as the picture came up, him passing Steve another vendor hot dog. Bruce got back to work.

\-------------------------

Bruce didn't understand what he was looking at, and he told Jan that.

"I've restyled evening wear for Steve, and that means I need to shake up menswear too. Well, in a different way than I will with Clint." She tapped on him in a way that reminded him of Tony. At least Jan never used shock.

"Why?"

"Because otherwise people are going to insist you're her beard."

How long had women been wearing short hair? Steve wore a cowl.

"Now, I'm not talking a neo-Orientalism, just injecting some great fabric and playing your strengths. Shoulders. You're solid. Come on, men can be such boring penguins."

"Okay." He only said it because Jan was an unstoppable force and because she knew his comfort level. She might take him right against it, but she wouldn't trample his boundaries.

She kissed him on the cheek, after a stop-take realizing he didn't need more convincing. Jan took her leave, eager for her project.


	12. Chapter 12

"Doctor Foster!" Bruce hadn't expected the astrophysicist, he was just heading to the common kitchen to make some noodles.

"Jane."

"Bruce." He smiled as they awkwardly shook hands. "So, Thor's here? Want to see the kitchen--" Jane's stomach cut him off.

"Yes?" She followed him. "Thor said Tony Stark had given him the use of a floor and, well, I was hoping I could also get a lab bench."

"Done." He supposed he shouldn't do that, answer for Tony, but this was Doctor Foster, and he had been told--

"I will expedite your lab configuration."

"Jane Foster, JARVIS."

"Pleased to make your acquaintance."

Bruce put a pot of water on, and opened the fridge. "What kind of sandwich would you like?"

"You don't have--" Her stomach interjected.

"Breadbox." Bruce pointed. "Pick something."

He pulled out various wrapped cold cuts and cheeses. He approved the potato bread he was handed. "There's mayo, mustard, so on in the door." He cut two thick pieces and two thinner slices. "Anything you don't like?"

She sat a jar of chili mustard and pickled eggplant down. Bruce went full Dagwood for her, making himself a cheese sandwich. He dumped the noodles into the boiling water.

"Want your sandwich hot?" He plated his own and slid it into the salamander.

"Really?"

He added another slice of swiss and put hers in too. He got bowls for the noodles and then dealt things out, gesturing at the table. They ate companionably.

"Jane?" Thor's voice preceded him. "You've found Bruce!" He opened the freezer and pulled out a buffalo wing personal deep dish pizza, which he microwaved and then moved to the salamander. "Darcy is trying to decide on her view."

"Why does your floor have no walls?"

"No walls?" Bruce had only seen his own and Steve's.

"There's a swoop of glass around the bathroom, and the headboard is nearly a wall, but that's it," stated Jane.

"It can be remedied." JARVIS offered.

Thor brought his pizza to the table, sitting down and going at it with knife and fork. "How are you and our valorous Captain? Lady Widow, Hawkeye, our host and his Pepper?"

"We're well, Steve and I. Clint and Natasha are applying their skill set in an undisclosed location. JARVIS, update on Tony and Pepper?"

"Pepper requests a sandwich, Sir is in his workshop."

"I will make Lady Pepper's sandwich." Thor stood after one more bite of his pizza.

Jane appropriated it, working pizza, noodles and sandwich.

Thor prepared her lox on pumpernickel with thin sliced avocado, with tomato wedges and sweet pickles on the side, shredding a mound of red cabbage and spiraling a radish as further garnish.

Pepper came in at a clip. "Hi, Bruce. Thor!" She turned to the table. "You must be Doctor Foster."

"Jane."

"Jane, I'm Pepper. And famished." She picked up her sandwich and took a good bite. Finished chewing she looked for, and was handed by Thor a fork. "Sorry, I've a meeting in twelve minutes."

"Fifteen. Your PA will take them on their tour first."

"Short tour." Jane opined as she continued to chow down.

"Intersect." Pepper was more decorous but scarcely slower. When she finished Pepper clasped Thor's forearm and said "Nice meeting you, Jane." before heading out. "Later, Bruce!"

\-------------------------

What Bruce didn't know when he welcomed Jane was that she came with a sheepdog. Darcy seemed to believe that scientists needed to be led outside every few days; maybe she had a point. Jane was the main beneficiary of course, but she also herded the rest of the labs. Darcy re-designated part of the main coffee station the veggie bar. She found fractals. There were purple carrots cut as coins. She tempted people with pea pods, with themed trays, with pump dispensed sauces.

Tony was confused. Bruce knew this because Tony told him. Repeatedly. "Vitamins, you can't expect science with vitamins."

"You're just mad there's no blender." He noticed the diatribe wasn't impeded by the nori knots Tony had scooped up.

"She's setting up ping pong intramurals."

"I commit social science."

That was the other thing. She could sneak up on people.

"Aren't you supposed to be dismal?"

"That's economics, I was political science." She handed Tony a beet spear.

"Then why is there no bacon?"

Darcy flipped Tony off and went to make sure Jane was watered.

"Did you know Natasha is training her?"

\----------------------------

"Why are you not fighting off historians with a stick?" Darcy asked Steve.

Bruce had yet to figure out a pattern to when he'd find Darcy wearing fuzzy pajamas. She never went onto the lab floor that way.

"It's not common knowledge," Steve answered.

"What happened? I mean, there was a lot of gnarly shit that went down between the surrender of Japan and the Battle of New York."

Steve nodded at that. "Arctic's a big place if the ice isn't melting."

"You were in the Arctic? Wait, that was a flight path."

"We didn't have everything there is now. And I did aim away from the main routes, much as I could."

"You were in a plane, flying a plane? I need a recorder. JARVIS, you getting this for posterity?"

"Darcy, no."

She looked ready to argue her case, but Steve's expression could not be brooked.

"WPA?"

That Steve was willing to expound on. Bruce had an experiment he needed to attend.


	13. Chapter 13

Bruce sat on the edge of his bed, Steve straddling him, rocking slowly. The edge had bloomed into a lush warmth. She traced slow circles on his back as she clenched and unclenched around him, cheek against his. Sweet eternity.

Steve brought her hands up to his head, pulling them apart enough to look him in the eye, to kiss him. Steve leaned away, clasping his thighs between her knees as she arched, bowed back. He brought his hands to her waist, spread his fingers over her abdomen. Her hips swung like a fast pendulum and he bore up into her. She was milking him, breasts heaving, nipples jutting like javelin tips. He rubbed a finger over where they joined, then grabbed her by the ass. They struck together like the coconut on the blade, wave against the shore, mallet on a gong.

Completion tore through him. He pulled her up after he caught his breath; with sorrow he lifted her so he could deal with the condom, spermicide and clean his hands. She sprawled, lifted up on her forearms, knees apart. It was inspiring. "Steve?"

"Please."

He gave her fingers until he was hard and could roll another condom onto his cock and slide into her. Bruce thrust hard, balanced on one arm and cupping her breast in his other hand. He clutched her shoulders and drove into her. Faster and faster, long hard strokes, sawing. Bruce broke.

Steve took care of the condom and cleaning him up, balancing Bruce on her back. "Do you want to?"

"Want to?" He was mussy and wanted to curl Steve into a precious ball and wrap himself around her.

"Lick me."

Yes. He shifted to the side, guiding Steve to turn over. He kissed her neck, her face, her mouth. He looked into her eyes, knitted his fingers in her hair. "Sure."

Steve nodded. Bruce slid down to her belly dusting it with kisses. Steve was wet from their lovemaking and he was drunk with her scent. He gave her a greedy swipe then dedicated himself to investigating her folds properly. Steve captured his hands and latched them to her breasts, kneading them together. He laved her clit then stabbed his tongue into Steve. He licked her out, careful to step down if she gasped the wrong way. She shivered under his ministrations. She clutched her hands in his hair.

"Suit up."

Bruce was basking, gentling his hands over Steve, pulling his mouth back to look and look up.

"Wrap it and deliver."

Oh. He knelt up and rolled on another condom. He entered her slowly, watching himself sink into Steve. He looked up into her eyes as he pulled back and dropped again into her. He didn't last long.

She kissed him, turned onto his back. Steve was eating his mouth, mimicking him. He stroked the small of her back.

"Steve?" She'd stopped and was looking pretty dazed.

"I--" She rubbed a finger over his lips. Steve fitted her mouth over his, tongue teasing the seam. "Thank you."

Bruce was sure that was his line as he fell asleep.


	14. Chapter 14

He hated when they teamed up with the X-men. First, it always meant a hard fight. So far there was no sign of Magneto. Bruce stood at the open door of the quinjet. He jumped, turning green as he fell.

The Other Guy slammed into the foe. Exo-skeleton crunched and then Bruce had minimal access to sensory inputs.

Second, he didn't exactly like Logan. The man had a way of standing so he had Steve's breasts in the sight line of her eyes. Worse, he had the nose of a bloodhound.

According to Steve, she and the Commandos had crossed paths with him during the War. Logan has said he doesn't retain memories well. He supposes considering the sort of memories, that's not a great tragedy.

What he most dislikes, is that the Other Guy thinks Hank is the same color as Cookie Monster and seeks him after the fighting is done. Tony has some sort of arrangement with Oro and Rogue. It's damn embarrassing to have to be 'rescued' because the Other Guy got somewhere Bruce can't get down from or out of, especially by Hank.

\-------------

Bruce was happy that Steve liked her suit. The fabric had a diffraction pattern, though he wasn't sure if that was contributing to its shifting color or not. It was somewhere between eggplant and dark chocolate, sometimes with a green undertone. The jacket was cut long in the front, short in the back, the trousers skimming her thighs to just above the knee and flowing out from there.

Jan hadn't made the radical changes he'd expected from their conversation. He could see that the fabric of the lapels and the tuxedo body weren't plain, but it struck him as rather subtle, midnight blue on midnight blue. He likely didn't understand the rules well enough to judge. The shirt was different, but mostly in ways not exposed by the jacket, white embroidery on the white sleeves.

Thor had been sent to Tony's tailor. Bruce gave Darcy a turn on the dance floor while Thor danced with Steve.

"You've got it so bad; good look on you."

He tilted his head. It was embarrassing, but a good sort. He'd gotten lucky, he'd gotten Steve. Clint takes Darcy away, and Thor brings Steve, exchanging warrior clasps with them each before sweeping Jane about the dance floor.

It's not lost on Bruce that Steve is more maneuverable this way. He picks out Natasha dancing with someone in government. She doesn't seem hindered, but her dresses possess less fabric than the ones Steve had worn. After a few dances Bruce allows a man from an NGO cut in.

These evenings wear long, as people network to their various interests. Steve and Pepper take point in softening up patrons for the various reconstruction and relief efforts, Natasha works her own angles. He walked out onto a balcony with Steve. It was getting stuffy in there.

Steve pulled out a small sketchpad and a pencil. Bruce thinks how much it looks like a cigarette case in a black and white movie, the gesture of hand and implement focusing his attention. Finished, she puts it back into her jacket, into her pocket. She clasps his hand. He looks up and smiles.

"Ready?" Steve inquires.

He leads them back into the party.

\--------------

Bruce tried to back out of the common lounge. Jan is working around Darcy with pins while she continues oral history interviews with Steve who is sketching. Jane is catching up on reading journals and Pepper is focused on a tablet. Natasha is folded up with a thick paperback.

"Bruce, come in." Pepper looks at Darcy, then back to her tablet.

He tried to figure out what Jan was doing. Arcane. He'd come up because his experiment had a waiting period in it and was at loose ends.

"Have you read this one?" Jan turns her reading towards him.

"Outside of my area. Any good?"

"Possibly, just started." She lost herself back into science.

"I'm just going to get some water, Darcy." Steve set his lapboard down and got up following Bruce.

"K-I-S-S-I-N-G." Darcy sing-songed as they were nearly in the kitchen.

Bruce was surprised when Steve hugged him from behind. He cupped one of her hands. She squeezed his shoulder and the moment was over. Steve prepared a refreshments tray, Bruce pitching in and making some tea.

"Food! Jane, eat something." Darcy gestured, caught in Jan's handiwork.

"Bruce, be a dear and feed this birdie." Jan continued pinning, nodding at Darcy. He broke one of the chocolate raisin cookies in half, and did as bid.


	15. Chapter 15

"Bruce?" Steve said it softly, he could feel her words as she was wrapped around him big spoon nested. She had her hand on his hip cupped in the cradle of her pelvis. He wiggled despite himself.

"Something you want to tell me?"

It was something he didn't want to tell her.

"I love you; this, don't worry about it. I'm happy."

He never thought he could be this satisfied. That someone would cherish him.

"You make everything so good."

He was worried, he never before got to keep--

Steve rolled him onto his knees, weighing down his back. He was hard, he jerked with the sudden change. Steve rolled her hips, lifted them up, pushed him forward, down and pulled them back. Bruce moaned, mortified and aroused. It's not perfect. He'd always been too scared, of men, to try; he had other fears regarding women. He wanted Steve to fuck him, really really wanted her to pound him. This was close.

Steve was slow, methodical. Her sure hands claimed him, gripped his thighs, raked his back, combed his chest. She nuzzled his neck, nibbled down his spine past his shoulder blades hips not failing. Bruce is greedy, his empty hole needy. Steve is enough, she's beautiful, caring, strong. He doesn't deserve her.

"What do you want?"

You. He can't say it. He's drawn taut. He's going to lose Steve, he's been afraid of that, known it. He hisses as she closes her palm around his cock inside his sleep pants. Slow, she brings him off so slow, torturously languorous. He feels her moving, pulling her hand away and wiping it off, legs still twined with his.

"Can you face me?"

She deserved that, deserved so much more. He rolled over.

"Talk to me." She lay her hand on his waist.

"I'm bi."

Steve looked thoughtful. "Have you ever..."

"You?" It was a cheap shot, and Bruce regretted it immediately. He knew Steve hadn't questioned him.

"Nowhere to go and alleys aren't for making love." Steve looked at him. "You could have told me."

Bruce shook his head. Steve pulled him to her, lips brushing his forehead.

"I love you, all of you. We can always talk. Don't have to agree, but silence- It's not golden."

Bruce looked up and into her eyes; what hadn't she said Before? Before the ice, before Rebirth, the war, what silence haunted her?

"I'll do better."

"Just don't hide things like Fury's secrets."

Bruce chuckled in shock. "Do you miss it?"

"Fumbling about on the sly? About as much as bad double-dates." Steve paused. "I'd never have been able to do the things I have as I was and I certainly wouldn't have made it to now. I wouldn't trade you for anything."

"Being a man, do you miss that? Do you miss your cock?" He trusted Steve, if she wanted him to talk he would risk asking her.

"I didn't." Steve rolled over him. "Giving it to you, missing out on that--"

Bruce kissed her. "Answer the question. Or don't. Just--"

"Some." Steve slid against Bruce. "This is my body. You've seen what I looked like."

He'd had a chip big as the world on his bony shoulders. "Medicine got better."

"And more expensive. They ran the women back home, back into work no man wanted, that no one wanted to pay a man for. Plenty of men came back from the war to fill the jobs."

Steve had read a lot of post-war history, social history.

"Did you with a woman after?" She'd told him about before, an older girl, they'd gotten pretty far before an asthma attack derailed things.

"No. I was bad talking to dames and no science could solve that."

\--------------------------

Bruce got out of the elevator on Steve's floor carrying a bag. He found her sketching a vase of flowers and headed into the kitchenette. After unpacking the bag he started making gyoza.

"Hi."

"Start some rice?"

It was companionable, cooking together. Once he had enough of them prepared, he started panfrying them while Steve set up the steamer, throwing some noodles into the water itself. Steve made up some while Bruce put the seared first batch into the steamer, and then they swapped, Steve taking over the searing and moving gyoza on into the steamer basket.

Once the last of the wrappers were filled, Bruce cleaned the counter and made up sauces. Steve scooped out some of the rice and fried it with the leftover filling. Bruce set things up at the table.

They ate, the ebb and flow of conversation natural. Finished they washed the dishes and Steve got out some ice cream. They took their bowls out to the couch.

"I've got sparing with Natasha, and I think I'm helping with Darcy and Jan's defense training after that. Be here tonight?"

"Sure."  
\-------------------------

Bruce found the sketchbook on his coffee table tied up with ribbon, and a paper tag with For Bruce wrote in the fine hand Steve didn't use for autographs. Curious, he opened it.

The first page was Steve bare-chested; Steve as a man. The head was darker lines, more completely shaded. His hands, balled up, were also dark. Bruce flipped through, careful to turn the pages by the edge. There were images of legs, feet, he wasn't even sure how Steve knew how to draw his own back. 

There was the image, as if looking down, of a lax penis, left hand and thigh lightly sketched. From there Steve waxed to the subject, perhaps became less self-conscious. They were beautiful, Steve was beautiful, so angry and defiant. Steve's endowment was disproportionate to his stunted frame. There were pages of his cock.

And then there was a page that was shirtless Steve superimposed then and now, his thin clavicle a modesty bar, the setting of the fateful lab sketched in lightly. The images after that weren't as frank, as exposed. Except for the picture of hands and the mirror rippled like a pond, fingertips stirring. Before and after touching.

He went for the picture Steve had drawn before, that Bruce had placed in an acid-free card frame and started again from the beginning. Maybe he would have underestimated Steve long enough to learn to trust him. He's more doubtful that he could have gone out on a limb, gone for a guy then. He thinks Steve would have caught his eye, a large soul in a small vessel.

Bruce turned to the pictures of Steve's cock. He didn't feel guilty arousal. Steve had wanted him to see these images, had made these drawings for him. He loved her as she was; she should be enough. This was part of Steve, a part lost to the past

Bruce was bi for all that he'd never overcome his fears of other men. Steve wasn't worried about that. It was heady, that sort of trust. There was a draw; Bruce could have loved Steve through this conduit. It was a sepia-tinged emotion, nearly-nostalgia for what was not and couldn't be, a balm for his recriminations.

He closed the sketchbook, retied the ribbon. He found a spot for it, replaced the sketch. Bruce sat, not emptying his mind, savoring instead focusing thought on what he had skittered away from. Steve had shared the visit Dr. Erskine had made the night before the procedure. Bruce thought he could read guilt between the lines, and yet he thought it might have been the one kindness Steve received to carry between was and would.

It also held the kernel of why the Serum never worked again. Steve's weakness had only been in his body, and it hadn't kept him from being willful; probably given Steve it heightened stubborn. Every other subject was not of that same mettle. Bruce wondered at the chance meeting at the Exposition, questioning if it really was chance. Could Steve have caught someone's attention? Was it wrong to match means and madness, when hand and glove were seamless?

The Other Guy wasn't caused by the accident. Bruce wanted to think of it that way, had had to accept it wasn't true. The incident had given form to what already existed, much as Steve had already been a hero scrappy in those alleys. What a dread genie science could unleash. It was something else that could master that genie, that could ride the wind. Steve had it. Bruce was finding it. Seeking it, no longer abandoned to his personal time-bomb.

Now he meditated. Now he let go, welcoming.

\---------------------------

Bruce lay back, letting Steve unbutton his shirt, rucking hers from her pants. He touched against the restriction of fabric, then started on Steve's buttons. They rode the pent up burn shedding clothes piecemeal, getting him sheathed and then he was in her.

He strove up and she held him in place. He touched her careful, inquisitive, free to strain but restrained. She slid and clutched agonizingly slow and it was beautiful.

Steve's fingers teased over him, low on his stomach, against his nipples, in his hair. She was teasing herself on his cock and Bruce pulled Steve down by her shoulder blades.

He kissed her, she shifted, drew his leg up and rocked hard. She held him against the force of her pistoning, gave him the tiniest bit of play. Felt so good sliding in and out of her, hanging onto her. Bruce felt and watched her break, arching up now that Steve wasn't pinning him. He brought his leg down, gaining more leverage to thrust. His completion rushed upon him.

He cleaned up, pulled on sleep pants, and let Steve position him as little spoon. Steve was the unmovable object; he could trust her, there was no reason to fret. Bruce was not on eggshells with Steve. It was scary. It was freeing.

It was hope.

**Author's Note:**

> Reed Richards is per the movies with Chris Evans' Johnny as this is a much more sympathetic version of Mr Fantastic, and I love the friendship moments between Reed and Ben. I also love the compare/contrast between Human Torch and Captain America and the people behind the hero.


End file.
